Canis lupus
by BloodOrangeSoda
Summary: Lloyd looked up and saw the tattered hem of a blue overcoat, and above that, strong arms outspread in the clear message that this man intended to protect Lloyd from Hector's axe. Or, the things that could have been.


**Warnings**: Spoilers? Is that a thing? Rated for language. **  
Disclaimer**: Fire Emblem does not belong to me.**  
Notes**: I realize it's weird to have a favorite crack pairing in a fandom as dead as Fire Emblem, but I do love me some Raven/Lloyd. This is for _Bleach Ninjas with Fire_, who gave me the idea. You can kiiind of see it as a sequel to his Raven/Lloyd drabble in his series "Friendships of the Emblem," but it functions equally well as a stand-alone.

Takes place in the "Cog of Destiny" chapter of Rekka no Ken.

* * *

Wolves, Lloyd mused to himself, can sense thunderstorms.

It was the first coherent thought he'd had in quite some time. His mind had gone blank, dwelling in a vacant, whirling cesspool of rage and misery so deep that he would have worried about ever snapping out of it, if he had the mental capacity or inclination to worry. But none of this anger, this guilt, this gut-wrenching agony broke through the calm of his façade.

Maybe because, when it came down to it, he still couldn't believe the truth, that Linus was dead, dead and gone and _never coming back_. On some level, his mind comprehended this, and that was where the mindless rage came in, but really, he couldn't – and didn't want to – understand. If Linus was dead, then what was Lloyd still doing living, breathing? It didn't make sense.

So he sat, slouching down in the throne, legs extended before him. His chin rested in his palm. Young, naïve Hector of Ostia approached with his motley group of warriors by the minute. Lloyd's forces waited in place, and his blade lay ready in his hand.

He stood, too full of restless energy to stay seated. Striding to the doorway of the shrine, he looked out over the battlefield. Far in the distance, he saw flashes of fire and lightning. The clangs of weapons crashing together echoed in the valley, and wyverns shrieked from overhead, an earsplitting sound that raised the hairs on the hackles of his neck. He paced in the doorway like a – well, like a caged wolf, wishing for…

Wishing for what, he did not know. Revenge, definitely. Death? Only once revenge was either completed or proven impossible.

If nothing else, he would fight to avenge Linus' death. After that… Well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it. _If_ he came to it, which was beginning to seem increasingly unlikely.

He inhaled a deep breath, taking in the now-familiar scent of the storm that had arrived with Sonia those years ago. He'd been too young and naïve to understand it then, and he did not try to understand it now. Maybe there wasn't enough wolf in him, if he couldn't make sense of what he was smelling. But he did know that the storm was soon to break, and he was ready for it.

* * *

Parry, slash, dodge. Repeat.

The little red-haired lordling fell back with a cry, clutching at the deep gash Lloyd had just left on his shoulder. But he had left his own wound on Lloyd, a nick on his brow that was shallow but bled heavily.

The familiar dance of blades made Lloyd smile, thinking back on his years of training under his father's critical eye, practicing the kicks and thrusts for hours in the dead of night so he would be able to make Brendan proud. With Linus, always together, each pushing the other to become that much better.

_Soon, Linus_, he thought. _Just a little longer_.

He panted for breath, sweat curling the tips of his hair. Blood seeped from a dozen cuts on his body, but most of them did not concern him, none but the minor wound over his eye. He flicked his head to keep the blood from trailing into his eye and blinding him.

Taking stock of his injuries, his smile deepened. He wasn't mortally wounded yet, but it was only a matter of time, as Hector's forces had him surrounded and they were all attacking one by one. Each of them did scant damage on their own, but it was whittling him down, and he could tell that his time was nigh.

But who was left, he wondered, looking around. He had dealt serious wounds to all that were present so they could not hope to try again without being mortally wounded. "Is there no one else?" He called out. He kept his free hand pressed against the sluggishly bleeding wound on his abdomen.

As if in answer, a pegasus fluttered down at the opening of the shrine, its rider holding a lance in her tiny hands. She was slim and sweet-looking, sending a pang of regret through Lloyd. To think that his life should come to this, killing a girl who looked barely old enough to don her armor…

But perhaps he was underestimating her. He could tell by the barding on her mount that she was a full-fledged falcon knight, well-versed in the art of battle. Well, that only meant he could feel less guilt about the matter. When she approached, he slid into battle stance.

They fought, and left each other bleeding heavily. _So close, Linus. Nearly there_.

Then, a roar – "Florina!"

Lloyd looked up. Silhouetted in the light of the doorway was a massive form. The thick plates of his armor may as well have been silk for the ease of his maneuvering in them, and the axe he hefted seemed feather-light.

Lloyd was struck with a moment of sudden clarity, some lupine instinct telling him – _Yes, now. He's the one. This man will mean my end_.

"You there," he called, gesturing with his blade, "who are you?"

The man strode up, casting his features into the light. Lloyd didn't think he knew him, not really, yet something was familiar about him all the same. The bull-headed stubbornness in his eyes, maybe. The timbre of his voice and the mulish set of his jaw.

"Marquess Ostia's brother, Hector!" The man replied.

Ah, of course. Hector himself, here to do what none else could. Hector, who had killed Linus. It seemed only fitting that he should finish off Lloyd as well.

"And you, lout?" Hector asked. He bared his teeth.

So like Linus, Lloyd mused. He looked off to the side, staring at the wall without really seeing it. So much like Linus. "The Black Fang commander's son, Lloyd Reed…" he answered absently. "You remind me of my brother. Something about you…"

Yes, there. The look of confusion, and anger at being confused – that was pure Linus.

"Huh?" Hector frowned. "What are you talking about?"

It was bad enough for Linus to have been killed at all, but for his death to be so unimportant that the lordling didn't remember causing it – the fact that the lordling didn't see how the world was an unimaginably darker place without his brother in it – that was _unbearable_. Lloyd made an impatient pass with his sword. "My brother, whom you killed. My brother, Linus…" He faltered. If Hector didn't even remember Linus, then he wasn't worthy of speaking his name. Lloyd turned to the side again, unwilling to look this lordling in the eye. It was an honor he did not deserve. "It's none of your business."

Hector was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was shaded with some deep emotion. "I have a brother, too. If someone killed him, I would make sure his killer paid dearly and suffered long."

Lloyd turned to him sharply. Like Linus, prone to brief bouts of eloquence, however rare. "Well spoken," he said, meeting the lord's gaze. "If you don't want to give your brother cause to mourn, you'd best fight well." His fingers, previously wrapped loosely around the hilt of his blade, tightened. "Prepare yourself." And he lunged.

"Ah!" Hector said, startled. He brought his axe up in the nick of time, and Lloyd's sword struck the handle of it. He wrenched it out and jumped back, and the fight was on.

Parry, slash, dodge.

Repeat.

Lloyd struck Hector, once, twice, three times, but that armor that he made seem so light was strong and well-made, and he could not pierce it. Instead, Lloyd sought to slash the exposed skin at his neck, the weak spots on his shoulders, thighs. And slash them he did, but Hector fought on, as tough as anyone Lloyd had ever met. He started off on the defense, but soon found his footing and began to strike out, heavy blows that Lloyd blocked but weakened from. Every time he fielded off a hit from that enormous axe, his sword arm strained against it, shuddering with exhaustion.

And finally, it was too much. Hector pressed down on his axe and Lloyd's arm buckled, sending him to his knees. Before he could raise his sword again, Hector planted his foot on the blade, keeping it pinned to the ground. He lifted his axe, and Lloyd bared his throat to it like the defeated wolf he was, eyes closed, waiting, wanting.

The axe came swishing down, and –

"No!"

Metal clashed together. The sound was cacophonous, unexpected, _wrong_. How could that be? Lloyd's eyes fluttered open, and then went wide. A sword hovered inches from his face, holding the axe away from it, protecting him.

"What are you doing?" Hector asked, lowering his axe. Lloyd caught a glimpse of frustration and bewilderment on his face before a body stepped in front of him, blocking his view.

Lloyd looked up and saw the tattered hem of a blue overcoat, and above that, strong arms outspread in the clear message that this man intended to protect Lloyd from harm. And above that, dark red hair.

No…

"Raven?" Lloyd asked, hesitant with uncertainty.

But when the man turned his head, looking down over his shoulder at Lloyd, his guess was proven to be correct.

"No!" He growled, the calm broken from his voice for the first time. "Gods, no, not you too."

Of course. Of _fucking_ course. It wasn't enough that Linus was dead, that Brendan was gone forever, that Nino had joined the enemy – even the fond memory of Lloyd's brief summer fling, the only thing the war hadn't been able to touch and taint, was now poisoned for him. One final betrayal.

"Hello, Lloyd," Raven said.

The terrible weight of tenderness was in his words.

Before he even knew he was moving, Lloyd had leapt to his feet and hefted his sword, a keening sound coming from his throat that he had only before heard from wounded animals. "For what you have done to my brother, I would kill even you, Raven."

"Lloyd Reed… Of course," Raven said, recognition dawning. He turned to face Lloyd, putting his back to Hector. "We never shared last names. I didn't know he was your brother when I defeated him."

Bile rose up in Lloyd's throat. "You… You were the one to… You killed him?" He shook his head violently. "_You_ killed my brother?"

And he had thought nothing could hurt him anymore.

"I defeated your brother," Raven corrected, maddeningly calm. "I disarmed him and drew out his surrender with my blade to his throat, but I did not kill him."

"I don't believe you," Lloyd said, some madness lurking in his voice, his chest. "And more than that, I don't care. I will kill you. He is dead and your group was the cause of it." He brandished his sword, killing intent clear in every line of his body.

Raven looked at him, a strange, blazing look in his eyes. Then he uncurled his fingers and let his sword fall from his hand. It clattered to the ground, the only sound in the crowded room.

Dimly, Lloyd heard a girl shriek something, saw her dart forward only to be restrained by a wyvern knight's strong arms. But the blood pulsing in his ears muffled her cry into an unintelligible mess that echoed in the shrine, a sound of purest heartbreak.

"What…?" Lloyd asked, his own sword arm lowering. He stared.

Raven dropped to one knee, bowing his head. "If I lie, then kill me where I stand," he said. "But I tell you, I do _not_ lie, and none of my companions were the cause of your brother's death. I swear it on my life, which I now offer to you freely."

This time, the girl's cry was clear. "Brother!" She wept, clawing at her captor's arms, but he would not release her. "Lord brother, no!"

Lloyd staggered back a step. Either the world trembled under him, or his trembling shook the world, he did not know. "How dare you," he whispered, shaken to his core. Then, louder, and ragged with a crippling swirl of unidentifiable emotion, "How _dare _you do this to me, you malicious bastard. Demanding mercy from a man with nothing to lose –"

He was ignored. "I can't force you to trust me, or to believe me," Raven said, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks as he gazed at the floor, "but I do beg you to listen to me. Just listen. For Nino, and for me, and for everything I have seen in you and I know you truly to be. _Listen_."

Lloyd's breath was deafening in the quiet of the room; he imagined that all of their observers held their breath in wait, though it was likely he merely couldn't hear them with his own heartbeat drumming so loud in his ears.

Raven did not move. He stayed, head bowed like a statue, a sacrifice to some spiteful god who demanded blood sport as reparation for an untold sin. But Lloyd was no god, and did not possess a god's blithe whimsy. Sheer human compassion still ran in his veins, much as he may have wished otherwise. Gods, he knew well, did not care much for mercy.

Lloyd looked down at his sword wistfully. How easy it would be. How fast. It flashed through his mind's eye, as clear as a memory – the whistle of the blade through the air, the moment of contact, the metallic scent of blood. Raven's body crumpling to the ground, his glassy eyes still downcast. And then the noise of a dozen weapons being drawn, so that Lloyd would know their revenge and finally gain the peace that he did not deserve.

"Damn you," he said in a low, despairing growl. And he spiked his sword to the ground, where it bounced once from the force before wavering and then falling still. "Fuck you and your bullshit manipulation."

"I wouldn't call it manipulation," Raven said softly.

Lloyd glared at him, acid in his gaze. "If you say something about –"

"Faith, perhaps?" Raven said, softer still.

"I hate you," Lloyd spat, and turned, glancing around the circle of onlookers. He caught sight of Nino mere seconds before she tumbled into his arms, weeping his name.

"Oh, my sweet sister," he murmured into her hair. "What am I doing?"

She clutched at him, fingers shaking. "It was Mother, Lloyd, only she's not my mother, and she and Nergal – we're going to kill Nergal for what he's done to – to all of us, I promise."

"Nergal?" He said, frowning.

"He's mad," Raven said lowly. "But come, we must hurry. Let the lords to their shrine, and I will explain everything I know." He picked up Lloyd's blade and offered it to him.

Lloyd, with a heavy heart, took it and slid it into its sheath.

* * *

That night, after everything had been explained – and truly, their account sounded like something Linus would say and do – Raven slipped into his tent. Lloyd sat up. They stared at each other, neither speaking.

He knew that the others didn't trust him yet, were keeping a close eye on him, and he couldn't blame them. But they all trusted Raven enough to take him at his word. That kind of respect was not to be taken lightly.

Finally, Lloyd broke the silence. "I hate you," he said.

Raven shook his head bleakly. "I couldn't let you die, no matter how much you wanted to."

"And still do." Lloyd said it with ease, however morbid the thought was.

"I couldn't let you," Raven repeated. "I won't." He knelt at the foot of Lloyd's bedroll and wrapped a hand around Lloyd's ankle through the blanket, gripping tight enough to bruise. Lloyd didn't shake him off.

"You don't know what it's like," Lloyd said, quiet and without heat. "To lose everything."

Raven snorted. "I know better than anyone. I know what it's like to lose your family, your home, and your identity, all in the same day. I know what it's like to crave revenge, however unquenchable that thirst is. And I know what it's like to force yourself to live on when you wish to die with every breath you take."

"Then why live on?" Lloyd asked. "Why bother?"

Raven didn't speak for a long time. Lloyd expected him to come out with something about honoring the memory of his parents, about how living on and being happy was what they would have wanted for him, how disappointed they would be if he gave up. He expected Raven to say something about the pain dulling over the years, and how over time Lloyd himself would learn peace.

But when he finally spoke, he only said, "I guess I'm not brave enough to give this up."

"This?" Lloyd echoed.

"This," Raven said, shaking Lloyd's leg where he still held it. "And Lucius, and Priscilla. Even Wil and Rebecca, in a way. I kept wanting to die, kept saying _yes, now, this is the time_, and then I would accidentally find something else to fight for, and I can't bring myself to give them up."

Lloyd said nothing.

Raven released Lloyd's leg and rolled onto his back, staring up into the darkness. "For the year after the incident, I would think, once I kill Uther of Ostia, then I'll be allowed to die. But then Lucius followed me, and I thought, well, I have to find a way to ensure his safety after I go, then I'll be allowed to die. And then Priscilla found me, and I thought – once she's back in Caerleon, safe and happy, then I'll be allowed to. And now it's killing Nergal, and seeing you live, and all of these other things."

Lloyd reached out and spread his hand out over Raven's chest, thumb brushing the dip in his neck. He still said nothing.

"I want to die so badly, Lloyd." Raven confided with a grim, humorless laugh. Then he sighed. "But I guess I want to live even more."

Lloyd closed his eyes and thought of Linus. Felt the staggering weight of grief in his chest that made it nearly impossible to draw breath, felt the will to live flee from his mind. Life without Linus was not one worth living, life where Lloyd himself had sided with the evil beings that had killed his brother and done nothing to stop them.

Then he thought of Nergal, and some part of him sparked to life, something inside him that said _not yet, not until that evil bastard is dead by my hand_. And thought of Nino. Nino, and her smile and her tears and how she needed a brother more than ever before, needed a family to replace the mother that she had never had.

And of Raven, the only man who truly understood. Raven, who claimed that these nagging obligations and attachments were what kept him waking up every morning. Raven, whose eyes were brighter than anything he had ever seen, and whose smile had captivated him from the first moment he saw it. Raven, who did not fear death. Raven, and all they had left to experience together.

Finally, Lloyd let out his breath in a heavy whoosh. "I guess I don't hate you that much, after all," he said.

"Much obliged," Raven said dryly.

Lloyd would have smiled, but trying to do so felt odd and malformed. "So… Nergal, huh?" Following the storm, tracing it back to its center. The scent of lightning growing strong and harsh in his nose. There really wasn't enough wolf in him, he thought. A real wolf would avoid the storm, not seek it out.

"Wolves fight best in packs," Raven said, as if reading his thoughts and contradicting them. He turned on his side and met Lloyd's eyes frankly. "I'd like to fight with you."

Instead of answering, Lloyd tugged him up into a kiss. It was brief and shallow, but warmed him all the same, easing some of the overwhelming pain that simmered in his chest.

"I think I know what you mean," he said when they pulled apart. "About living only because you're not brave enough to give things up."

Raven smiled, and Lloyd – against all odds – smiled back.

_Is this okay, Linus?_ He wondered. _Would you hate me for the path I've chosen, the path I've been forced to take_?

Somehow, he didn't think Linus would.

Thunder echoed outside, and rain droplets began pattering on the roof of the tent. And Lloyd breathed it all in while Raven slept next to him, wishing for…

Wishing for what, he did not know.

A lot of things, really.


End file.
